Happy Birthday, Helga
by SoraGirl
Summary: It's Helga's birthday and she's tired of the pain. Can a fimiliar blonde save her in time? PG13 for one curse word and of course, dealing with suicide. HA. Please R&R! :D


Disclaimer: Don't own characters and don't even really own the story line, I mean, it is so overused :P

Happy Birthday, Helga

March 16. It had always been her birthday. It wasn't like Easter or anything, it didn't jump around year after year. It wasn't complicated to remember, it wasn't the third Tuesday of the month every sixth year there was a leap year. It was March 16. It wasn't some nothing day like March 6 or June 21. It was March 16, the day directly before Saint Patrick's Day. A holiday that had always been a favorite with her family. Not because they were Irish, they weren't, but because it gave them an excuse to get pass-out drunk…not that they needed one.

But that's beside the point, she thought to herself, ignoring the icy rain pelting her face. The point was her birthday was March 16, the day directly before her family's favorite holiday of the year, and still, they couldn't remember it. She supposed that had become as much part of her "birthday tradition" as anything, her family forgetting her. By now it shouldn't be a surprise…but for some unknown reason, this year it stung. 

It seemed to her that too many things had turned unknown to her anymore. She used to be able to explain all of her emotions, to write them down in her little pink journal…but now, she was lost as to what to write. She was lost all together. 

That little pink journal had been her salvation for so many years. It had allowed her to escape her thoughts, to put them somewhere besides her head…but now her thoughts were almost intangible and it was impossible to write them down. So her thoughts continued swirling around in her mind, slowly breaking her down.

What exactly she was feeling was another question entirely. She was feeling abandonment, loneliness…worthlessness. But none of them were that clear cut. It wasn't simply "I'm lonely because I have no friends" or "I'm worthless because it's my birthday and not a single person remembered me." They were caused little by little by a seemingly infinite number of horrible events some called "life". She couldn't tear them apart, she couldn't stop them. They had joined together to form one horrible unexplainable feeling that she was quite sure she would never get rid of. 

She'd been feeling this way for a while….a month or two she figured. Her last entry in the little pink book was December 2 but it had said nothing really, only that she had nothing else to say. She had accepted her misery as way of life until now…always threatening, always promising herself one day she would run away from this city or run away from life…but even as she promised, she knew it wasn't true. She knew she would never be brave enough to do anything and that she would just stay boarded up in her little city and rot away in her little life.

But that was before March 16. March 16 had always been her birthday and for some reason, March just seemed a birthday month. It was Lila's birthday month, and Rhonda's, and Patty's and a few other boys and girls in their grade. Each of them had been showered with presents and compliments on their "special day". Rhonda's friends had pinned balloons to her locker, Patty's friends had made her a big sign,….Lila had been absolutely piled with gifts and Helga was more then certain that somewhere in that mess of roses and cards and candles and candies…there was a gift from Arnold.

She didn't think it was very fair. She knew if Arnold had remembered _her_ birthday and given _her_ gift, it wouldn't be lost under anything. It would be treasured and appreciated in a way Lila could never appreciate and…she needed him so much more the Lila would ever need him… and anyway, she probably deserved him more too.

But what does it matter who needs or appreciates most? What mattered was that Lila was at home, surrounded by presents from admirers, and by people who loved her, Arnold probably among them…and she was here sitting alone on the bridge, ice rain stinging her face on March 16, her birthday, little pink book and parcel of clothes at her side.

She wasn't exactly sure why she had packed the clothes. She guessed at first, she hadn't been planning to jump…she had been planning to run away. To run away as fast as she could and to make sure not to look back…but that plan had faded quickly enough. 

Where could she go? How could she believe that it would be any different? No matter where she went, she would always be the same worthless person in the same worthless world. She could only run so long before that truth would catch up with her.

The little pink book, of course, had been packed for obvious reasons. Since Phoebe's "departure" that book had become her only real companion, aside from Arnold, whom she had been getting along with better…mostly due to her recent lack of energy. She just didn't have it in her to yell or growl or taunt anymore. 

When she was planning to run away, the book had been essential for her sanity. Now that she was planning to jump, she was still immensely glad she had decided to take the book with her.

 That book contained all of her hidden self, things she had never wanted anyone to know even after she was dead. She had built up a fake image, made herself something she wasn't…and it was too late to go back on it now. She was afraid for anyone to ever see the real her.

Besides, that little pink book held too much potential to hurt. She was sure she had written something particularly nasty about everyone she cared about at least once, made a few death threats, written more then a hurtful few names. 

Still, they were things said in the heat of the moment, things she didn't _really_ mean…she probably would have erased them all together except, she was all together against erasing. She thought whatever came out first, is what the person had truly intended to say. 

Not to mention, the book was filled with her thoughts about Arnold. She had no doubt that if he found out how she felt about him, if he saw the passages filled with unimaginable anguish because she knew he would never return her feelings…that little goody-two-shoes would blame himself and he was really the farthest to blame. Arnold had been the only thing good in her life till now, her only promise that there was a little hope in this world. The last thing she would ever want to do was hurt him. 

She knew if she left her little pink book in her room, it would eventually be found no matter how well she hid it. After all, they would probably empty out her room the day after her death so they could make it into a personal bar for Miriam, a TV den for Bob, or perhaps another trophy room for Olga, considering she had the old room almost completely filled up. As for burning it…well, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. If she did indeed change her mind and run instead of jump…she would need that book. It was part of her.

So the decision sort of made it's self. She would jump, little pink book in hand, off the St. Dower bridge and into the freezing water below. If the impact didn't kill her, hypothermia surely would. Water would fill the pages of the little pink book and wash away the words she had spent so long delicately perfecting just as it would fill her lungs and wash her life out of her, which had been anything but perfect. It was perfect, or as perfect as suicide plans get…and she was confident for once, that she might be able to pull it off. 

Standing up, she leaned forward a little bit on the edge, as if testing just how confident she was. She didn't scramble back, she didn't clutch harder on the cement…but she didn't let go. She was ready, just not quite yet. Who was there to rush her anyway? It was her death, wasn't it? She could wait as long as she wanted, after all, it _was_ kind of important.

She wondered exactly what she was waiting for…she had wanted to think things over a little bit more, make sure she was absolutely _positive_ she wanted to do this… but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she could never be positive about anything. This might be the wrong choice, it might be the right choice, but it was her choice, and that's what mattered.

She leaned a bit further again. She wanted more time; she _needed_ more time. She wanted to figure out the meaning of life, she wanted to wonder about heaven and hell, she wanted to think about her friends, she wanted to think about anything and everything because she knew she would never think again. But where had all her thinking gotten her so far? Sixteen years of nothing but thinking and questioning and the only answer she had come up with was this, standing on the edge of an abandoned bridge, about to jump to her death.

No, she didn't think any amount of thinking was going to get her out of this one.

She was ready, she moved her foot slowly, and allowed it to hover over the edge.

"Helga!" A familiar voice cried out from what sounded like far away.

The girl squeaked in surprise and her lost her balance on the slippery concrete. Instead of falling forward, like she had intended, she flew backwards, hitting her head.

"Jesus Helga!" Arnold said, dropping to his knees to help up his fallen friend, "What are you doing out here?!" 

"Oh, uh," she fumbled. It was fairly obvious what she was "doing out here" but she figured she might as well try to keep her football headed crush from worrying. She blushed as he shifted his shoulder under her arm, helping her up, "Just thinking."

"Oh," Arnold responded, monotone. Helga, released from his hold, now searched his eyes, trying to see if he had actually believed her. It was sleeting too hard for her to find her answer. 

"Yeah, I come here for that too sometimes," he admitted, seemingly accepting her lie as he sat himself on the side of the bridge. 

_Poor naïve Arnoldo, _she thought to herself, stunned he had actually believed her.

"So why are you here now?" she asked somewhat rudely. If this was going to be the last day of her life, it would probably suit her best to treat the boy she loved nicely…but then again, it had taken her 16 years to build up the courage to _make_ this the last day of her life. She needed to know _now_ if Arnold was just strolling by or if she was going to have to find herself a new bridge.

Arnold noticed her tone and glanced at her sideways, Helga hadn't been that edgy with him for a while. "Dunno really…" he confessed, "I guess I just felt like taking a walk…strange, isn't it? To want to walk on a day like today. But I did…and I guess I just sort of ended up here."

"Oh really?" Helga said, slightly more suspicious…his story seemed even less believable then even hers.

He nodded, looking out onto the water, rippling with every drop of sleety rain that hit it. "I've got to say Helga…sitting on a bridge in the freezing rain...doesn't exactly strike me as an ideal way of spending your birthday."

Helga's eyes widened in shock "You…you knew it was my birthday?" she whispered, too surprised for the tough girl routine.

"Of course," Arnold smiled brightly at her. He reached deep into his heavy coat and produced a small wrapped package, offering it to Helga.

"I figured you wouldn't want me to give it to you in front of everyone else…I know how you are about accepting things," he said, still smiling.

Tears welled up in the blondes eyes as she slowly unwrapped the box. Inside was a beautiful black journal filled with blank white pages begging to be written on. 

"It's perfect," she said, using her own body to shield it from the rain. She turned her gaze from her beautiful journal, back to Arnold. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

Arnold nodded and remained silent for a second. "Helga," he said, finally ready to confront her, "When I come here to think…I don't usually stand so close to the edge."

Helga went white again, tucking her new journal into her own jacket. "Wha-What do you mean?" she asked innocently, hoping he would either believe her or drop the subject.

"You know what I mean," he said, trying hard to make his voice both stern and gentle.

"Yeah!?" Helga said loudly, panicking. She had been caught. That stupid football head had caught her and he would never let her follow threw. Automatically, she through back up her rough exterior, the only defense she had ever had against his piercing blue eyes. "Well what do you care, Football Head?! So maybe I was going to off myself!? Who's going to care if I live or die?!" 

In her fury, she had stood straight up, scaring Arnold half out of his mind. He had jumped up as well, and was doing has damnedist to keep his voice calm.

"I do!" He said loudly, catching Helga's eyes as if that would keep her chained down.

"HA! Yeah right!!" she said even more frantically, waving her arm in the air as tears poured down her cheeks. She jumped on the high ledge of the bridge, petrifying Arnold, knowing now she could plummet down at anytime, "The great Arnoldo! Of course _you_ care; _you_ have to care about everyone."

"Always have to be the hero, save the day, do the right thing!" she mocked, pacing back and forth on the ledge. "That's all you're _really_ about, isn't it Football Head? You don't care about the people, do you? All you care about's the fame!"

"Helga," he stated slowly, trying desperately to at least _sound_ calm, "Please come down from there." He was shaking rather violently as he reached his hand out slowly to his friend.

"Why _should _I!?" she snarled through heavy tears, "There's nothing for me here! No one cares, Arnold. There's reality for you! No one really cares about each other! Maybe you'd see that if you left you're little dream world once and a while. Some of us aren't as lucky as you, bub! You have you're family, but me…me, I don't have _anybody_ who loves me. I don't have _anybody_ who doesn't think I'd be better off gone!"  

"That's not true!" He stressed too concerned to notice the tears now rolling down his cheeks. "Helga! _I_ love you!"

Helga hysterics paused for an extremely brief moment. Arnold, the boy she had been obsessed with since grade school…had just said he loved her…it couldn't be true…things like this didn't happen to her…that's why she was on this bridge to begin with.

"Oh, that's rich…real rich," she chuckled, sounding more hurt then angry now. "You'd stoop that low Arnoldo? Play with a girl's heart just so you could save the day again? Not this time, buck-o." 

She turned to face the water and Arnold, terrified, grabbed her by both arms and shoved her back down to safety.

The girl was shaking violently, trying desperately to get out of his hold. She banged as hard as she could with her tiny fists, failed her feet as much as she could, and screeched "LET ME GO!! I SAID LET ME GO!!! GOD DAMMIT!!! LET ME GO!!" as loud as she could but still Arnold, would not budge.

"Let me go!" she whimpered, a lot less threatening, as she began to tire herself out. "Let me go.." she whispered and then slumped down, releasing herself to heavy sobs and the comfort of Arnold arms.

"I'm so afraid," she said meekly from somewhere buried in Arnold's chest. She squeezed her arms even more tightly around his waist.

"I know," he said, his voice gentle with the sound of relief. "I know," he repeated, petting her gratefully on the head.

"Arnold?" she asked, sniffling as she raised her head from his chest.

"Yeah?" he responded, glad to see she was returning to the land of the sane.

"Did you…did you mean what you said about…loving me?" she asked. She feared the answer but needed to hear it all the same.

"Every word," he smiled, leaning down to give her a tender kiss.

"That's good," she smiled, blushing. She cuddled closer to him, no longer having to hide her vulnerable side. She basked in his warmth…she had a feeling everything was going to be alright. "That's very good," she said.

"Happy Birthday Helga," he whispered.

And for the first time in a long time,

It was.

Fin.

Whee! Okay, so everyone does the "Helga wants to commit suicide" fic…but I don't care! I needed to get a HA! fic out! I'm so proud to have finally written one!! H/A was the ship that started me off at FFN and in shipping in general and while I've never written one personally, I've been avid reader of HA! fanfiction since then :) 

However, as you all well know, not everything is all sugar and sunshine in the land of HA! anymore! O.O I was both shocked and appalled to here the news about the Jungle Movie. For those of you who are as in the dark as I was, the Jungle Movie was intended the last installment of HA! _ever_giving us the much needed answers of: What happened to Arnold's parents, what's Arnold's last name, and of course, most importantly, _what happens between Arnold and Helga._ However, Craig and Nickelodeon got in an argument when Craig refused to work for solely Nick and Nick, being the spoilt little baby it is, pulled the plug on the Jungle Movie. 

This is _absolutely_ **_intolerable_**. Fans have been waiting _years _for the answers to these questions…we NEED them. They're letting their own business disputes ruin the hopes and dreams of thousand of children, dying to find out what happens after "The Journal." Hey Arnold! _and_it's fans have served Nick faithfully, year after year and now, what does Nick do to repay all of us?!?! Pull the plug on the grand finale of one of the oldest and _dearest_ Nicktoons there is all because they had some childish dispute with the creator. 

It's not right; it's not fair, and we must **TAKE A STAND. **Provided is an address for Nick, please, please, please, in the sake of all that is good in this world! Drop them a letter, tell them how stupid they are and how much you want, you NEED the Jungle Movie. I even suggest including "I WANT THE HEY ARNOLD JUNGLE MOVIE!" somewhere on the envelope, because really, who knows if they actually look any further.

Here's the address, do your part,

Nickelodeon

1515 Broadway

NY NY 10036

HELP SAVE HA!

Oh and also, reviews the fic are much appreciated O:-)

With love and best wishes,

Soragirl :D 

"Have you hugged an author today? Write a review and make ones day?"


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